


The JIMP Jinx

by alder_knight



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Coming In Pants, Curses, Hand Jobs, M/M, Magic, Multiple Orgasms, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:59:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4064296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alder_knight/pseuds/alder_knight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/springkink/1107115.html?thread=11171499#t11171499">here</a> for the <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://springkink.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://springkink.livejournal.com/">springkink</a> <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/springkink/1107115.html">pan-fandom kink meme</a> prompt, "<i>Harry Potter; Draco/Harry - massive multiple orgasms - a little malicious spellcasting goes awry</i>." Ages are ambiguous in this fic, but please <b>assume they're of the age of consent</b>. Name derived from the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4pXfHLUlZf4">infamous Lonely Island vid</a>.</p><p>Originally posted Feb 28, 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The JIMP Jinx

_You say I'm premature, I just call it ecstasy..._

 

 

Harry's walking from Potions back towards the Gryffindor common room to drop off his bag before Quidditch practice, when he turns the corner down an empty hallway, hears a faint _whoosh_ behind him, and spontaneously comes in his trousers.

Shocked, he stops short and stands perfectly still, aware of the wet that is slowly seeping through his pants and across the front of his trousers, heart racing with embarrassment and the endorphin rush of the unexpected orgasm. He hears a snicker from behind a column to his left, and pivots on his heels to see, hiding behind it, none other than Draco Malfoy.

As Harry makes eye contact, more horrified than angry, Malfoy cracks up in earnest, laughing hard - "Oh, if you could see the look on your face... priceless, I tell you, ahaha -" but there it is again, that sudden wave like a sneeze or a sharp fall, and Harry seizes up, gasps, and comes again.

Malfoy looks bemusedly at him as he stands in the middle of the hallway, doubled forward and panting, contents of his arms (books, parchment, sweater) dropped across the stone floor. "Oh, you're joking. Oh, this is too good. The spell's only supposed to work once... looks like _The Boy Who Lived_ gets a two-for-one special!" He's still jeering ("You must be a real hit with the girls, Potter, with a hair-trigger like that"), when Harry opens his mouth to make an angry retort and instead moans, long and drawn out and half-pained, and stiffens, shakes for a few seconds, and comes _again_.

"Good lord, Potter," says Malfoy, wrinkling his nose and furrowing his eyebrows, "what the hell's going on here? I didn't think the spell _could_ work more than once... I mean, I assumed a natural recovery time... so I guess the magic changes that, but still, that's... that's not what it was supposed to -"

Harry drops to his knees in the corridor, woozy with building tension, and after fifteen or twenty seconds of panting there on the floor, Malfoy watching open-mouthed, he seizes up, lets out a choked sob, and comes a fourth time. His pants are impossibly wet and sticky, and he lurches to his feet, knees shaky, and all but falls through the door of the bathroom on the other side of the hallway. Malfoy's protests follow him in until the door swings shut behind.

He slumps into one of the stalls and locks it, fumbling in the pocket of his robes for his wand to charm it so only he can unlock, but as he does, he feels himself beginning to grow hard again against the inside of his ruined trousers. _How is this possible?_ he thinks desperately, beginning to rock forward and back. He has just enough time to unfasten and slide down his slacks, hands shaking, before cursing loudly and ejaculating onto the wall of the bathroom.

Pants around his ankles, he slides down to sit on the toilet seat and rests his head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees, panting. He's angry and humiliated, distantly, but mostly he's completely flooded with endorphins and feels like he will never need to wank off again. He waits, hoping the episode has passed, and lets out a long, shaky sigh when a minute goes by without another climax. He digs around his pocket again until he finds his wand, which he aims at his trousers, still wadded around his ankles, and tries a charm for cleaning up messes that he's seen Mrs. Weasley use on dirty pans. Harry is relieved to find that it is apparently a versatile enough charm to clean up sticky messes in pants as well. He stows his wand back in his pocket and leans forward to grab the belt loops of his slacks, when he discovers that his jinxed cock has other plans. "Ohhhhh god..."

Malfoy barges into the restroom, apparently carrying Harry's dropped belongings, which he throws across the bathroom in a series of thuds. " _Colloportus_ ," comes his disgruntled voice, followed by a _click_ at the door. He's locked them in.

"What the hell are you playing at, Potter?" he demands from somewhere in the vicinity of the sinks. "This isn't funny anymore. Whatever you did to mess up my jinx, you need to fix it now, or we're both going to get hauled in by Filch. Maybe it doesn't matter for a parentless sob story like you, but the last thing I need right now is another angry owl home to my father."

Harry, still sitting in the stall and trying to ignore the insistent erection between his legs, grits his teeth and replies, "I didn't do _anything_ to your jinx - all of this is your fault, Mal- Malf-fo-" He comes again, _hard_ , crying out Malfoy's name.

Silence stretches out between them after that. A tap drips faintly, irregularly, and Harry breathes quietly but deeply. Presently, Harry hears soft footfalls across the floor, closing the distance between the sink and the outside of the stall door.

"Do that again," says Malfoy, his tone inscrutable.

"What?" asks Harry. He doesn't know what else to say.

"Say my name like that," says Malfoy. "I want to hear it again."

"Are you out of your bloody tree?" Harry pants, feeling the pressure building again in the base of his spine. "Why the hell should I do th- that? I... ohhh..."

Harry's head lolls back and his eyes slide shut - the climaxes are coming less frequently, but with more build-up. His mouth falls open. Malfoy be damned - it's his fault Harry's in here like this anyway, and there's no point in disguising the fact that he's about to have yet another mind-blowing orgasm with the bastard standing about three feet away. Thank Merlin for the door between them, Harry thinks distractedly.

"Nnnnnnh... oh, oh _god_ ," Harry's gasping, and this time it's going to be big, he can tell - he braces himself with a hissing intake of breath as rushing white noise fills his ears and he reaches his orgasm, riding it hard, spots of color exploding behind his squeezed-shut eyelids. It seems to go and go, and then finally it ebbs, and his panting has an edge of desperation, almost a whimper. He blinks his eyes open blearily and discovers that Malfoy must have pulled open the stall door sometime after the point of no return, and evidently stepped into the line of fire, as it were. The two of them stare at the new stain down the front of his robes.

Harry blinks and looks up. "What are you playing at, Malfoy? Why did you open the door?"

Malfoy glares, his gaze heated, with something more behind it than his usual loathing. He sniffs derisively, and then sinks to the floor, kneeling in front of Harry with a hand on each of his thighs, pushing them apart.

"Wh- what the hell are... Malfoy, what are you _doing_?" Harry demands, panicking. He's got nowhere to go - unless he wants to fight his way past Malfoy and out of the bathroom, which is a risky and unpleasant proposal, given his condition, he's basically trapped. And he doesn't want this. He's never wanted it. He hates Malfoy and he isn't interested in boys. The entire proposal is preposterous.

Interrupting his self-reassuring train of thought, Malfoy wraps his lips around Harry's soft cock, and miraculously sucks it back to life.

Harry Potter has come eight times in the last fifteen minutes. He feels like a wrung out rag. His bones are like jelly. He's got nothing left in him.

Nevertheless, Harry Potter is receiving a blow job from Draco Malfoy, and is astonished to discover two things: one, he is really quite enjoying himself, notably the view of Malfoy's closed eyes, hollowed cheeks and swollent lips; and two, Malfoy seems to have done this sort of thing before.

Wonders never cease. Harry Potter comes a ninth time, the word " _Draco_ " on his tongue.

Harry's not sure, but he thinks the spell has been broken. _Just like in Sleeping Beauty_ , he thinks hysterically. He looks down at Malfoy, who's still kneeling between his legs, eyes closed, lips covered in a sheen of saliva and cum, and suddenly cracks up laughing.

"What?" demands Malfoy, looking up defensively, eyes angry and hurt.

"No," says Harry, "it's just - I didn't even think..."

Malfoy starts with an explanation, but Harry shushes him, pulls out his wand, points it at himself, and pronounces, " _Finite incantatem_."

"...Oh," says Malfoy.

"Yeah," says Harry. "Probably should have thought of that earlier."

"I don't know what you're complaining about," grumbles Malfoy, "seeing as you just had a marathon session of spontaneous multi-orgasm, not to mention one _spectacular_ blow-job."

"It really was good," Harry admits. "Where'd you learn to do that thing with your tongue?"

"Pansy showed me," shrugs Malfoy. He shivers. Harry looks down and notices that, while he himself is certainly about as sexually satisfied as it is possible for a person to be, Malfoy could use a little help. Harry stands up.

" _Levimacula_." He points at each sticky patch in turn, clearing them away with the spot-removing charm. He reaches a hand down, and pulls Malfoy to his feet.

"Thanks," Harry says with a smirk, and he shoves Malfoy by the shoulders into the wall of the stall.

"Ow! You raging cunt, what the hell are you -"

Harry silences him with his tongue. Quickly if clumsily, he unfastens Malfoy's button and fly, and slides a hand down inside the silk boxer-briefs he finds beneath. _Classy_ , Harry thinks, impressed.

He's never performed this particular favor for another bloke before, but it's easy enough to start out with the things he likes for himself and just adjust based on what Malfoy seems to like most. It's not long before the other boy's breathing hard and thrusting up into Harry's palm, grinding against it greedily. Harry uses his free hand to pull Malfoy's pants down off his ass, granting his cock freedom. Harry pauses to spit into his hand and then begins stroking in earnest.

Malfoy spurts all over Harry's just-cleaned trousers when he comes, and they both snicker as Harry repeats the _levimacula_ charm. Clothing is adjusted, hair is fixed, faces and hands are washed, belongings are gathered.

Harry is going to be late for Quidditch practice if he doesn't hurry. He uses his wand to unlock the door, and reaches to open it, but stops when he hears his name called behind him.

"This doesn't change anything, Potter," says Malfoy, eyes narrowed, leaning against the window ledge. "Nothing has changed."

"Sure," says Harry, rolling his eyes as he pushes through the door and into the hallway, urging his sluggish legs into a brisk walk. To hell with what Malfoy thinks - this changes _everything_.


End file.
